


The Marauders and the Prisoner of Azkaban

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2006-01-17
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are sitting around James's room, quite bored, until a mysterious object hits Peter in the head. It's a book called 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban', and when they read it, it will change their lives for good as they learn some interesting things...





	1. The Arrival of the Best Son in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

            It was a bland, rainy summer day, down casting most everyone. No one was outside, instead everyone was sitting inside, finding a way to occupy themselves or not, the former not being Sirius Black.

            “I’m bored,”� he said to his friends James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius, Remus and Peter were staying over at James’ house, sitting around in his room.

            “Why don’t you try reading a book?”� suggested Remus, who was reading one himself, acting the most mature of the four sixteen year old boys.

            “I don’t want to. I know all that stuff. You can’t read a book on a day like this. Prongs,”� said Sirius, referring to James. “What do you want to do?”�

            “I don’t know, Padfoot. What do you want to do?”� said James.

            “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”�

            “I don’t know. What do you want to do, Wormtail?”�

            “I don’t know,”� replied Peter.

            “Well, now we’re really getting some ideas,”� said Remus sarcastically.

            Sirius sighed loudly. “I’m bored.”�

            “We’ve heard,”� said Remus, getting annoyed. “If you ever have anything new to tell us, just mention it.”�

            “Okay,”� said Sirius. “What about: the more bored I get, the crankier you get.”�

            “I’m not getting cranky!”�

            “Yes you are.”�

            “Oh, I’m going to eat some chocolate,”� said Remus, closing his book and taking a half eaten chocolate bar out of his pocket.

            “You’ve had chocolate all along and you didn’t tell us?”� asked James loudly.

            “Yes, I usually do have it with me.”�

            “Oh, come on, give us some!”� whined Sirius.

            Now, nobody had been paying much attention to Peter, until about a second later when there was a thump, and Peter loudly said, ‘ow!’

            “Ow!”� said Peter. “Something fell on my head!”�

            “You better hope it doesn’t hurt your brain,”� said James.

            “Prongs, have you been gluing things on your ceiling again?”� asked Peter.

            “Er, no,”� said James.

            Remus reached over for the object that had hit Peter on the head. “It’s a book. _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_.”�

            “Potter?”� Peter asked. “Do you know him, Prongs?”�

            “No,”� said James. “I don’t think there are any Harrys in my family.”�

            “Give me that.”� Sirius took the book from Remus and looked at the cover. “Hmm. He looks just like you. Except for his eyes. And that weird scar on his forehead.”�

            James looked intently at the boy called Harry. “He has my hair. Maybe he _is_ related to me.”�

            “Let’s see what year it was written in,”� said Remus, taking the book back from Sirius. He flipped the book open to the copyright page. “Copyright 1999 by J. K. Rowling.”�

            “1999?”� repeated Sirius. “It can’t be! This is 1976! Let me see.”� He took the book from Remus again and read the page. “1999. But that’s like over twenty years from now!”�

            “I know! I’ve got it!”� James exclaimed. “It’s a book _from the future!_ ”�

            Peter began humming _The Twilight Zone_ theme song. James and Sirius looked at him blankly.

            “Muggle show,”� explained Peter.

            “Come on!”� said Sirius eagerly. “Let’s read the future book!”�

            “I thought you didn’t want to read any books,”� Remus commented.

            “But we’ve got to read the future book!”� whined Sirius. “Read it!”�

            “Yeah, Moony. Read it to us,”� said James.

            “Please?”� added Peter.

            “Alright,”� said Remus. He took the book from Sirius and flipped to the first chapter. “ _Chapter One. Owl Post._ ”�

            “Moony, can we eat your chocolate as you read to us?”� Peter asked.

            Remus sighed. “Oh, fine,”� he said and gave them the chocolate bar, then returned his attention to the book. __

_Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways._

            “Sounds kind of like Moony!”� said James.

            “Arrooo!”� howled Sirius.

            “Guys…”� said Remus.

            “Oh, sorry,”� James said.

            “Yeah,”� agreed Sirius.

            _For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of the year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard._

            “Hey, do you think he goes to Hogwarts?”� asked Peter.

            “Probably,”� said Sirius.

            _It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (_ A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against a pillow._

“Gee,”� said Remus. “Sounds a bit like someone here.”� He pointed at Peter.

            “Nuh uh!”� Peter pointed at Sirius.

            “No!”� Sirius pointed at James.

            James was going to point at Remus, but remembered Remus didn’t do that type of thing. He pointed up to the ceiling. Sirius, Peter, and Remus all burst out laughing.

            _Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, “Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless- discuss._

_The quill paused at the top of a likely looked paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read:_

“Eh, skip that bit,”� said Sirius. “I don’t want to learn. I bet it’s about that weird Wendy or whatever her name is.”�

            “As you wish. And her name was Wendelin the Weird, not ‘weird Wendy’,”� said Remus.

            “Whatever,”� Sirius said.

            Remus skipped over the extract from the textbook and continued reading. __

_Harry put his quill between his teeth and reached underneath his pillow for his ink bottle and roll of parchment._

“Odd. I like to keep cheese under my pillow,”� said Peter.

            “Cheese?”� James laughed. “Ha ha ha!”�

            “Yeah, well, it’s not like what’s under your pillow is better. What’s under your pillow?”�

            “A picture of Lily,”� replied James.

            “Aww, and just what do you do with it?”� grinned Sirius evilly.

            “Moony, keep reading,”� said James quickly.

            _Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, he’d probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer._

“Child abuse!”� yelled James. “They can’t do that to my relative!”�

            “Actually, Prongs, even though they’re not being very nice to him, they’re not really abusing him,”� Remus pointed out.

            “Still!”� said James. “They can’t- wait, who are these Dursleys? Where are his mum and dad? Keep reading.”�

            _The Dursley family of number four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays._

“You!”� shouted James. “You Dursleys, you!”�

            _Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Harry’s only living relatives. They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic._

Remus stopped reading and looked up at his friends. “You know what’s odd? Lily told me that she has a sister named Petunia. And that Petunia hates magic. You don’t think it’s her?”�

            “No way,”� said Sirius. “That would be too weird.”�

            “Padfoot, this _was_ made in 1999.”�

            “I don’t get it,”� said Peter.

            “Neither do I!”� complained James. “Why is it that Lily talks and is friends with Moony, but just slaps me?!”�

            “Prongs, maybe you should be more compassionate and understanding.”�

            “I am!”� said James. “I’m trying!”�

            “Compassion and understanding isn’t done by taking off people’s pants,”� said Remus simply.

            “Well, you know, Snivellus had it coming.”�

            “And it was so funny!”� laughed Sirius.

            “Yep!”� laughed Peter. “But can we get back to the story?”�

            _Harry’s dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys’ roof._

“What?!”� shouted James. “The poor guy’s parents and dead and he doesn’t even get to talk about them?”�

            _For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry downtrodden as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him. To their fury, they had been unsuccessful._

“Ha!”� said Sirius.

            _These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry’s spell books, wand, cauldron and broomstick at the start of summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbors._

“Child abuse. That’s all I have to say,”� muttered James.

            _This separation from his spell books had been a real problem for Harry, because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work._

“Oh, don’t we know it,”� said Peter.

            “I haven’t even started mine,”� Sirius told them.

            “Me neither,”� agreed James.

            “I did a little,”� said Remus. “Maybe we should be doing our homework instead of reading this book.”�

            There was a silence of consideration from all boys, and then-

            “Nah,”� they all said.

            _One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry’s least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month._

“No way,”� said James blankly.

            “It can’t be!”� exclaimed Sirius. “Snivellus? _A teacher?!”�_

            “It sounds like him,”� said Peter. “I bet he’d give a detention.”�

            “This is so strange,”� commented Remus. “The possibility that his Petunia is Lily’s sister…Professor Snape…Harry Potter….this book could be telling the future as we know it!”�

            “Don’t stop now!”� said Sirius. “I wanna know what happens!”�

            _Harry had therefore seized his chance in the first week of holidays. While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon’s new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too)-_

“Showoffs,”� muttered Peter.

            “Yeah,”� said James. “What a bunch of good for nothing showoffs.”�

            “Er, Prongs,”� said Sirius. “You _do_ show off with that Snitch.”�

            “There’s a difference.”�

            “Suuuure there is.”�

            _Harry had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of his books, and hidden them in his bedroom. As long as he didn’t leave spots of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night._

“There’s a good mischief maker!”� said Peter, swinging his arm.

            James pointed at the book. “That’s my relative! Good job!”�

            _Harry was particularly keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with him, all because he’d received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation._

“Ring ring!”� said James, imitating a telephone.

            “Hello?”� asked Sirius, picking up an imaginary telephone.

            “This is James Potter,”� said James, talking into an imaginary telephone.

            “What do you want?”�

            “I want you to stop abusing my relative!”�

            “That’s it! Now we’re going to be in a bad mood with your relative! We’re going to make him miserable!”� Sirius fake-yelled and then hung up. James and Sirius broke out into laughter.

            _Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry’s best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards. This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry didn’t, but had never used a telephone before. Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who answered the call._

“I knew it!”� James yelled. “You’re going to make my relative more miserable then he is! Just wait until I find you! I’ll hurt you, you little piece of-”�

            _“Vernon Dursley speaking.”�_

_Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Ron’s voice answer._

_“HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I-WANT-TO-TALK-TO-HARRY-POTTER!”�_

            “Ah, a newcomer to the telephone,”� said Peter. “It’s so much fun to watch them be idiots.”�

            _Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm._

“Hey, Moony made one of those faces when he thought the chocolate pudding at Hogwarts didn’t taste right!”� said James.

            “Yeah! You kept ranting about how they had contaminated the flavor or something!”� laughed Sirius.

            “Well, they did!”� replied Remus indignantly. “They weren’t giving the chocolate its proper, luscious flavor!”�

            “You and the chocolate,”� laughed Peter. “Do you ever not have chocolate with you?”�

            “Er…no…not really,”� said Remus. “Only a few times. Never mind, let’s keep reading.

_“WHO IS THIS?”� he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece. “WHO ARE YOU?”�_

_“RON-WEASLEY!”� Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field._

“Didn’t one of your last conversations with Lily go something like that?”� Sirius asked, looking at James. “You two were yelling really loud.”�

            James nodded sheepishly. “I asked her out….and then she yelled at me for taking off Snivelly’s pants, then asking her out. And I kind of yelled back. And she yelled louder.”�

            “I couldn’t even hear my jazz music,”� Remus added.

            “That was an improvement,”� said Peter.

            “Hey! I like my jazz music!”�

            “I was just joking.”�

            _“I’M-A-FRIEND-OF-HARRY’S-FROM SCHOOL-”�_

_Uncle Vernon’s small eyes swiveled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot._

“Really?”� asked Sirius. “You mean he became like a tree and got planted to the ground?”�

            “No, stupid, it’s an expression,”� explained Remus.

            “I’m not stupid, I’m just not as smart as you are. It’s not nice to call people names.”�

            _“THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!”� he roared, now holding the receiver at arm’s length, as though frightened it might explode._

James considered that sentence. “You know….that’s a good idea.”�

            “Exploding telephones,”� said Sirius. “I like it.”�

            Remus rolled his eyes, and then looked at the book at said, “Oh, thanks a lot.”� 

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON’T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!”�

_And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider._

“I bet he has loads of friends,”� said Peter sarcastically.

            _“The fight that followed had been one of the worst ever._

_“HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE- PEOPLE LIKE_ YOU _!”� Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit._

“So now you’re making my relative miserable, ruining his social life _and_ getting germs all over him! Just wait until I find you!”� James yelled at the book.

            “Hey, Moony, do you think you’re done screaming?”� asked Peter. “When you’re reading in capitals, you talk really loud.”�

            Remus nodded as he scanned down the page. “Well, that’s how I’m supposed to say it.”�

            _Ron had obviously realized that he’d gotten Harry into trouble, because he hadn’t called again. Harry’s other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn’t been in touch either. Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harry’s year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts._

_So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one._

“The last one?!”� roared James at the book. “What did you do to my relative then?! Hmm? What?!”�

            “Prongs, calm down!”� said Sirius, pushing James down before he could attack the book. “He’ll probably be better when he goes back to Hogwarts. And he won’t have to see them. And everything will be okay.”�

            “I doubt it.”�

            _There was just one very small improvement- after swearing that he wouldn’t use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night. Uncle Vernon had given in because of all the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time._

“Kind of like Moony,”� said Peter. “Before we started going to Hogsmeade at night, you just kept howling and shrieking in the Shrieking Shack.”�

            “Oh, thanks for the comparison,”� said Remus sarcastically. “And I might remind you that you’re an Animagus, so you don’t have to deal with monthly forced transformations.

            “But you _were_ loud.”�

            _Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen. The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting, snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley._

“Aha! And that’s like you, Wormtail!”� said Sirius.

            “What?”� Peter asked.

            “ _You_ snore in your sleep!”� he said triumphantly.

            “So?”� he asked.

            “It’s loud. And annoying,”� Sirius said simply.

            _It must be very late, Harry thought. His eyes were itching with tiredness. Perhaps he’d finish this essay tomorrow night…_

_He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillow case from under his bed; put the flashlight,_ A History of Magic _, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed._

“Under the bed,”� repeated James. “I find that a great place to hide things you don’t want anyone else to know about.”�

            “Wicked. I’ll go look under it when we get back at Hogwarts for our sixth year,”� said Sirius casually.

            “Wait a minute! I didn’t say that _I_ hide things under the bed! Just that it’s a good place to hide things!”� James hurriedly said.

            _Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table._

_It was one o’ clock in the morning. Harry’s stomach gave a funny jolt. He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour._

“Happy birthday, my dear relative!”� said James happily.

            _Yet another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays. He had never received a birthday card in his life. The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose that they would remember this one._

James gasped. “My poor, poor relative! You know what this means, don’t you?”�

            “That his relatives are very cruel, uncaring people, and his friends should have sent him birthday cards if they were really his friends?”� suggested Remus.

            “No!”� said James. “We’re going to have to sing to him ‘Happy Birthday’!”�

            “We’re going to what?”� Sirius asked.

            “Come on! It’s my relative we’re talking about! Sing!”�

            And so the boys began singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as they looked at the book, James being the most enthusiastic about this song.

            _“Happy Birthday to you!_

_Happy Birthday to you!_

_Happy Birthday dear Harry!_

_Happy Birthday to you!”�_

“Great,”� said Peter. “Now we’ve sung like idiots to a book. I don’t even think it heard us.”�

            “It’s the thought that counts,”� James pointed out.

            _Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwig’s large, empty cage, to the open window. He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets. Hedwig had been absent for two nights now._

“Maybe someone ate her!”� said Peter.

            “Arrroooo!”� howled Sirius again.

            Remus frowned. “Will you please stop it with the werewolf jokes? They’re not funny.”�

            “Sorry.”�

            _Harry wasn’t worried about her: she’d been gone this long before. But he hoped she’d be back soon- she was the only living creature in this house who didn’t flinch at the sight of him._

_Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year. His jet-black hair, however was just as it always had been- stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it._

“Just like Prongs!”� said Sirius excitedly.

            _The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning._

“Not….like…Prongs,”� said Sirius, loosing his excitement.

            _Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all. It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry’s parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash._

Remus stopped reading and looked at the sentence.

            “Merlin’s Beard!”� yelled James, louder than he had ever yelled before in that room. “Read it again!”�

            Remus obliged. __

_It was not as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry’s parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash._

“Wow!”� James shouted, and started talking very quickly. “Harry is my son! I married Lily! Woo hoo! Yeah!”�

            “Are you _sure_ it’s Lily?”� Peter asked. “I can’t see her marrying him.”�

            “But, it did say that Harry has green eyes,”� said Sirius slowly.

            “And Lily has green eyes!”� exclaimed James gleefully. “This is great! I married Lily! I married Lily! And this book is about my son!”�

            Remus had been smiling at James’ excitement, also wondering why Lily would marry him, and then his eyes flicked to the next sentence, and the smile disappeared. “Um…Prongs…I think you’d better hear the next line.”�

            “What is it?”� said James, sitting back down, for he had stood up and started jumping crazy.

            _They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort. Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemort’s curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator. Barely alive, Voldemort had fled…_

Remus looked up at his friends, and the following comments came from them.

            “Don’t say his name!”� said Peter.

            “Wow!”� said Sirius in awe.

            “I’m _dead?!_ ”� said a thunderstruck James.

            “I’m sorry,”� said Remus. 

            “And this _is_ a future book, right?”� said James. “It means…it means I die? That’s just not fair!”�

            “Well…at least you got to marry Lily!”� said Sirius, clearly looking for a bright side.

            “And just look at your cool son!”� said Peter.

            “Yeah…I just can’t stand thinking that he has to live with these Dursleys during the summer. They’re so mean! Where were you guys? Why didn’t one of you take care of him?”�

            “I don’t know…the future is a very strange thing,”� said Remus. “And I doubt that Divination works. I hate Divination. Too many crystal orbs.”�

            “Well…let’s read on, then,”� said James.

            _But Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts. Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday._

“I’m not sure whether to be upset that Harry has had to more than once encounter the guy who murdered me, or be proud that he was brave and got passed it,”� said James tonelessly.

            “Let’s go with proud,”� said Sirius.

            _He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to him with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise._

“I find that to be personal!”� said Peter. “What if that dead mouse was me?”�

            “Are you that stupid?”� asked Sirius. “What would you be doing spending your time as a rat?”�

            “I don’t know,”� replied Peter.

            _Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realized what he was seeing._

“He was seeing his father resurrected from the dead!”� Sirius brightly said.

            “That’s not really helping.”�        

            _Silhouetted against the golden moon-_

“The question is, is it full or not?”� said Sirius.

            “Padfoot…”� began Remus.

            “Sorry!”�

            _\- and growing larger every moment was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harry’s direction. He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower. For a split second he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether to slam it shut. But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, realizing what it was, leapt aside._

“Because it was his _mother_ resurrected from the dead!”� said Sirius.

            “You’re really not helping now,”� said James plainly.

            “I think I’ll take that chocolate back,”� said Remus.

            “No, no! Wormtail, help me! Don’t let him get it!”�

            “Give me,”� said Remus. “You’ve gotten high enough.”�

            “No!”�

            “Padfoot, give him the chocolate,”� said James, still looking at the book in a sort of sad way.

            “Oh, fine. Here Moony,”� he said and gave Remus the chocolate.

            _Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be unconscious. They landed with a soft flump on Harry’s bed, and the middle owl, which was large and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless. There was a large package tied to its legs._

_Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once- his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family._

“Not Arthur Weasley?”� asked Peter. “He’s not in school anymore, but he graduated sometime when we were in school.”�

            “I don’t know,”� said James. “Is everyone in this book? This is too weird.”�

            _Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol’s legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig’s cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water._

“Because I am your friend who is high off chocolate, I will try and refrain myself from saying who that reminded me off,”� said Sirius.

            “Good,”� Remus said. “Because we don’t want to know.”�

Harry turned to the remaining owls. One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig. She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely please with herself. She gave Harry an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol.

_Harry didn’t recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest._

“Why?”� asked James loudly. “What has my son done now? Why has Hogwarts sent him a letter? How could my son do this to me and get in trouble?!”�

            “Er…Prongs…it’s probably his letter for his new school supplies that he needs to get, and reminding him that term begins on September 1st,”� said Remus. “And he’s probably getting his permission slip for Hogsmeade.”�

            “Oh yeah…”�

            _When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night._

“Show off,”� muttered Sirius.

            _Harry sat down on his bed and grabbed Errol’s package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold, and his first ever birthday card._

“My son has a great friend!”� said James happily. “Really. Thirteen years and this is his first ever birthday card? That’s sad.”�

            _Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope. Two pieces of paper fell out- a letter and a newspaper clipping._

_The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the_ Daily Prophet _, because the people in the black-and-white picture were moving._

“I see moving people!”� said Peter, obviously thinking this was very funny.

            “I’m just not going to ask,”� Sirius said.

            _Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read:_

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual_ Daily Prophet _Grand Prize Galleon Draw. A delighted Mr. Weasley told the_ Daily Prophet _, “We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”� The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend._

“Woah!”� said Sirius. “Five? And then there other son isn’t there. That’s six kids! Who would want six kids?”�

            “The Weasleys,”� said Peter.

            _Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid. Plump little Mrs. Weasley; tall, balding Mr. Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn’t show it) with flaming-red hair. Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny._

“Seven! That’s seven kids!”� said Sirius. “It’s like…what’s that Muggle fairy tale about that girl and the midgets?”�

            “You mean ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’?”� Remus asked.

            “Yeah, that one. I wonder if they all have personalities like that. Like Grumpy…and Happy…and Doofy.”�

            “It was Dopey.”�

            “Oh, right. I knew that.”�

_Harry couldn’t think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor._

“That’s my son!”� said James excitedly. “He’s such a good son! He cares about his friend getting gold and is happy for him!”�

            _He picked up Ron’s letter and unfolded it._

_‘Dear Harry,_

_Happy birthday!_

_Look, I’m really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn’t give you a hard time. I ask Dad, and he reckons I shouldn’t have shouted.’_

“Really?”� said Peter sarcastically.

_‘It’s amazing here in Egypt. Bill’s taken us all around the tombs and you wouldn’t believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn’t let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who’d broken in and grown extra heads and stuff.’_

“Wicked!”� said Sirius. “I want to see that!”�

            _‘I couldn’t believe it when Dad won the_ Daily Prophet _Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it’s gone on this trip, but they’re going to buy me a new wand for next year.’_

_Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Ron’s old want had snapped. It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds._

“What?!”� yelled James. “Why did my son fly a car to Hogwarts?! What’s wrong with the train?! And they crashed into a tree! How stupid can he get?!”�

            Remus looked up at James yelling. James angry face had softened into a light expression after his yelling, and he said softly, “My son rocks.”� Sirius, Remus and Peter started laughing.

            _‘We’ll be back about a week before term starts and we’ll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there?_

_Don’t let the Muggles get you down!_

_Try and come to London._

_Ron_

_P.S. Percy’s Head Boy. He got the letter last week.’_

_Harry glanced back at the photograph. Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking perfectly smug._

“Moony, if you become Head Boy, you better not get that attitude with us,”� Sirius said.

            “Of course I won’t,”� said Remus. “Besides, I don’t think I’ll get it. I’m horrible at being a prefect as it is. I’m always letting you guys get away with things.”�

            “Isn’t it great?”� grinned Sirius.

            _He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun._

_Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. There was another note from Ron beneath it._

_‘Harry- this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there’s someone untrustworthy around, it’s supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it’s rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn’t realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup._

_Bye- Ron.’_

“Great,”� said Peter sadly. “I had one of those. But I threw it away because I thought it didn’t work properly.”�

            “We’ll get you one for Christmas,”� said James. “Anyway, that was a great idea. At school, let’s put beetles in Snivellus’ soup!”�

            “Yeah!”� said Sirius.

            Remus glared at the book. “You’re really becoming such a bad influence.”�

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock. He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought.

            _Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione._

“Hmm. Why is it that my son gets his presents from his friends this year? What about the other years they were friends?”� James mumbled.

            _‘Dear Harry,_

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you’re all right._

_I’m on holiday in France at the moment and I didn’t know how to send this to you- what if they’d opened it at customs?- but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change.’_

“Did I mention that my son’s owl rocks too?”� said James.

            _‘I bought your present by owl-order; their was an advertisement in the_ Daily Prophet _(I’ve been getting it delivered; it’s so good to keep up with what’s going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he’s learning loads. I’m really jealous- the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

_There’s some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I’ve rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I’ve found out. I hope it’s not too long- it’s two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for._

_Ron says he’s going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!_

_Love from_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Ron says Percy’s Head Boy. I’ll bet Percy’s really please. Ron doesn’t seem too happy about it’._

“She sounds annoying,”� stated Peter.

            “But very clever,”� said Remus.

            “Annoyingly clever,”� Sirius settled.

            “What’s this ‘love from’?”� James asked. “Does my son have a girlfriend already?”�

            “No, I think it said that she was just his friend,”� said Remus.

            “That’s what they all say,”� James pointed out. “It says that they’re just friends. But really, they’re _more_ than friends.”�

            “I guess that’s why nothing is going on between you and Lily, is there?”� Sirius teased.

            “Shut it!”�

            _Harry laughed as he put Hermione’s letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book of very difficult spells- but it wasn’t. His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading_ Broomstick Servicing Kit _._

            “Wow, Hermione!”� Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside.

_There was a large jar of Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a_ Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.

            “Now that’s what I need!”� said James, marveling at what his son had received for his birthday. “How come you guys never got me one of those for my birthday?”�

            “Because I got you that huge package of one thousand and plus items of pranks to use, and that was a lot of money,”� said Sirius.

            “Because I helped buy the same thing,”� said Peter.

            “Because I also helped buy the thing, and besides, I’m not about to buy you anything with silver in it,”� said Remus.

            “Oh…right. Sorry.”�

            “It’s alright,”� said Remus.

Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world- highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks. Harry happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts house teams. One of Harry’s most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom.

“I LOVE MY SON!”� James declared. “Not only has he gotten my love for Quidditch and my talent on a broomstick, he’s the youngest Quidditch player in a century! And he’s got a great broom, even though I’ve never heard of it yet! But it’s bound to be good. I bet you guys don’t have a son as cool as mine! Harry, you rock. I am so proud to be your father.”�

            “You only love your son so much now because he likes Quidditch and is good at it,”� Sirius pointed out.

            “So?”� James asked.

            _Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel. He recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper._

“Hey, it’s Hagrid!”� said Peter. “He’s the gamekeeper at school right now!”�

            _He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly- as though it had jaws._

“It’s a miniature werewolf!”� shouted Sirius.

            “Padfoot!”� yelled Remus.

            “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist.”�

            “Besides, it was described nothing like a werewolf. Are werewolves _green and leathery?!”�_

            “Er…no. Unless they-”�

            “Stop! I’m just going to keep reading.”�

Harry froze. He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn’t have a normal person’s view of what was dangerous. Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin.

“Woah! I didn’t know he did all that stuff!”� said Peter. “What’s wrong with his head?”�

            “I don’t know,”� said James. “Guess it resembles yours.”�

            “Hey!”�

            _Harry poked the parcel nervously. It snapped loudly again._

“Guys…I’m kind of scared,”� said Peter. I wonder what it is?”�

            “Yeah! What did this Hagrid send my son?!”�

_Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised I over his head, ready to strike. Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled._

_And out fell- a book._

Sirius pointed at Peter and started laughing. “A book! A book! You were scared of a book!”�

            “That’s not just any book!”� said Peter defensively. “It’s like a man eating book!”�

            _“Harry had just enough time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title_ The Monster Book of Monsters _, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled sideways along the bed like some weird crab._

_“Uh-oh,”� Harry muttered._

_The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room. Harry followed it stealthily. The book was hiding in a dark space under his desk. Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it._

“Go son, go!”� cheered James.

            _“Ouch!”�_

_The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers. Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatter it. Uncle Vernon gave  a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door._

_Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he bucked tightly around it. The_ Monster Book _shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid’s card._

“Hooray for my son, Harry!”� said James, who seemed to have gotten over the fact that he would be dying, since he realized how cool his son would be. “He just stopped that monster book from attacking him!”�

_‘Dear Harry_

_Happy Birthday!_

_Think you might find this useful for next year. Won’t say no more here. Tell you when I see you._

_Hope the Muggles are treating you right._

_All the best,_

_Hagrid’_

_It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrid’s card up next to Ron and Hermione’s, grinning more broadly than ever._

“You know what, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid also rock,”� James decided. “Look how happy they’ve made my son!”�

            “Does anyone else have the feeling that the only other sound we’ll hear besides Moony reading, is Prongs talking about his son?”� Sirius asked.

            “Yep,”� said Peter.

            Remus nodded.

            “But I love my son!”� protested James.

            “We know you do,”� said Remus. “But we’re trying to read a book. We’ve got a long way to go.”�

            “Alright, I’ll try and keep quiet. Promise.”�

            _Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left._

_Noticing that it was rather thicker than unusual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:_

_‘Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock._

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress’_

_Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning. It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there. But how on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia to sign the form?_

“YOU MEAN THAT RUDDY AUNT AND UNCLE OF HIS WOULDN’T LET HIM GO TO HOGSMEADE?!”� James yelled angrily.

            “Knew his promise wouldn’t last,”� said Sirius sourly.

            “Prongs, do you think you could be a little quieter?”� Remus asked.

            “But- but, my son! He doesn’t think they’ll sign the form, which means that they’re horrible guardians!”�

            “There’s nothing we can do about it,”� said Remus. “He’ll be out of there soon enough.”�

            “Can’t wait,”� said James.

            _He looked over at the alarm clock. It was now two o’clock in the morning._

_Deciding that he’d worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross another day on the chart he’d made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down, facing his three birthday cards._

_Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment, Harry Potter felt just like everyone else- glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday._

“How sweet!”� said James. “But sad! This is the only time my son is happy it’s his birthday!”�

            “That’s the end of chapter one,”� said Remus.

            “Read the next one!”� said James eagerly. “I want to hear more about my son!”�

            “My son this, my son that,”� Sirius mocked.

            “Don’t mock me, Padfoot!”� said James. “If you found a strange future book about your son who you never knew you had, wouldn’t you want to read it and know all about him?”�

            “Well, yeah,”� said Sirius. “But more importantly, I’d want to know who the hot chick I had him with was.”�

            “Okay,”� said Peter slowly. “That was pleasant to hear. Now Moony, would you read the next chapter.”�

            “In a minute, I want some of my chocolate,”� said Remus, and he began to eat it.

            And then, once Remus was done, he opened the book to the next chapter, and Sirius, James and Peter sat beside him, highly anticipating what came next to the boy called Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter Two

**Authors Note:** Hi everyone. I should've posted this at the beginning of the first chapter, but I didn't know if there was a separate place you had to go to for it (I'm new to this website). Anyway, I don't own 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban' as it should be clear when Remus reads aloud the author and copy right date in the first chapter (not to mention that you're on a fanfiction website. You should know that!) But, er, please don't sue me or anything. These also aren't my characters. Anything you recognize here doesn't belong to me, unless it's something that you've read in one of my stories before or you've read this story before. (It really does get around... darn you, FF.Net)  
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“All right, onto Chapter Two,”� said Remus. He was about to read the chapter title, but then frowned. “Padfoot, don’t try and change the title here.”�

            “Why?”� said Sirius innocently. “Why would I change the title?”�

            “I know you would,”� said Remus.

            “Oh, come on, give it a try.”�

            “I know you’re going to change it…but if you insist…”� Remus read aloud the chapter title. _“Chapter Two. Aunt Marge’s Big-”�_

“Arse!”� interrupted Sirius.

            “How did I know you would say that?”� Remus asked no one in particular. “The chapter is supposed to be called _Aunt Marge’s Big Mistake.”�_

“My title could still work,”� Sirius pressed on. “Maybe her big mistake was having a big arse, because then she broke the chair.”�

            Remus sighed and rolled his eyes.

_Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table. They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television set in the living room._

“What a pig!”� Peter exclaimed.

            “Merlin, who’s _that_ lazy?”� Sirius asked, laughing.

            “What about my son?”� said an outraged James. “Where’s _his_ welcome-home-for-the-summer-present?”�

            _Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually._

“Five chins? Woah!”� said Sirius. “I think this kid has eaten enough. If he eats anymore, he’s going to blow up!”�

            “Like Violet Beauregard in _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_!”� said Peter.

            “I love that movie,”� said Remus. “I like looking at the chocolate.”�

            “Who’s Violet Beauregard?”� James asked.

            “She turns into a big, fat, blueberry!”� Peter laughed.

            “I hope _he_ turns into a blueberry,”� Sirius said, hopefully.

            “It’d serve him right,”� James nodded.

            _Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and a lot of mustache._

“Oh, so now we know where he gets it from,”� said Sirius. “I wonder if he tastes like beef.”�

            “Padfoot!”� Peter scolded, but did a very poor job at this, because he started laughing.

            “What? I was just wondering,”� continued Sirius. “Moony, why don’t you bite him and tell us what he tastes like?”�

            “Erm, Padfoot, first of all, I don’t want to, second of all, I’d be disposed of, and third of all, I can’t because he’s in the book,”� said Remus.

            “Well, still…”�

            _Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this care._

James looked as if he was going to explode. “What?!”�

            “Breath, Prongs, breathe!”� said Remus, clapping him on the back. “Harry will be alright. He’s used to it. It’s not nice, but he’s used to it.”�

            “But- but- but-”� James kept stuttering.

            _He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict._

_“…The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately._

“What?”� Sirius yelled. “I’m an escaped convict?!”�

            “No…I’m sure you’re not,”� said Remus quickly. “You don’t seem like an escaped convict type.”�

            “But Moony, it’s the future book!”�

            “Well, how many relatives do you have?”� Remus asked. “It could be any one of them. It’s probably your brother, Regulus, or something.”�

            “But- but- but-”� Sirius stuttered, just like James.

            _“No need to tell us_ he’s _no good,”� snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. “Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!”�_

_He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon._

“Potter family trait,”� James grinned. “Ruffle it, Harry, ruffle it!”�

            _Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed._

“Oh no, I’m going to be a convict _and_ have bad hair?”� Sirius moaned.

            “There’s no proof that it’s you,”� said Peter. “I doubt it is.”�

            “Yeah,”� said Remus. “What’s the chance of our Padfoot becoming an escaped convict?”�

            “Were you asking me or the future book?”� Sirius asked.

            _The reporter had reappeared._

_“The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today-”�_

_“Hang on!”� barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter._

“Really?”� asked Sirius. “He really barked? That fat thing? What kind of bark would he have?”�

            “You know, I think it was just another expression,”� said Remus.

            “Oh…right.”�

            _“You didn’t tell us where that that maniac’s escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!”�_

_Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window._

“Horse-faced?”� James snickered. “So now we’ve got a pig marrying a horse, and they had a killer whale for a son. What a lovely family!”�

            _Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors._

“Fascinating,”� said Peter in mock interest.

            _“When will they_ learn _,”� said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, “that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?”�_

Sirius let out a very loud bark of laughter.

            “Purple!”� he laughed. “He turned purple? That is too funny!”�

            “Maybe _he’s_ going to turn into a blueberry!”� Peter said excitedly.

            “Erm…guys,”� Remus began. “I hate to say it, but…expressions.”�

            “Be like that,”� said Sirius. “Take the fun out of everything.”�

            “I’m not taking the fun out of everything, I’m just saying that it’s unlikely that Uncle Vernon is turning into a blueberry!”� Remus said, crossing his arms.

            “So you’re taking the fun out of everything!”�

            “I am not taking the fun out of everything!”�

            “Yes you are! Fun sucker!”�

            “I’m not a ‘fun sucker’!”�

            “Can we hear the rest of what blueberry-man is saying?”� Peter asked.

            “Oh…yes,”� said Remus.

“Very true,”� said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door’s runner beans.

_Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, “I’d better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge’s train gets in at ten.”�_

_Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump._

_“Aunt Marge?”� he blurted out. “Sh- she’s not coming here, is she?”�_

_Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon’s sister. Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry’s (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia’s sister), he had been forced to call her “Aunt”� all his life. Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn’t often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn’t bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry’s mind._

“No!”� yelled James. “Not another mean person! My poor son! First he’s got these Dursleys, and now he’s got this awful aunt!”�

            _At Dudley’s fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statures. A few years later, she had turned up a Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry. On her last visit, the year before Harry started Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden over the tail of her favorite dog. Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight. The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley’s eyes._

James looked close to tears himself. “I’m going to kill that woman!”� he yelled loudly. “You can’t do that to my son! This is James Christopher Potter, and let me tell you, no one gets away with doing things like that to my son!”�

            “So, what are you going to do?”� Sirius asked.

            “No idea,”� said James.

            _“Marge’ll be here for a week,”� Uncle Vernon snarled, “and while we’re on the subject”� — he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry- “we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her.”�_

“Don’t you threaten my son!”� James shouted. “If anyone’s going to threaten him, that’s me! And you know what? Now that I’m dead, I _can’t_ even threaten him anymore! And that does not mean that Uncle I’m-A-Big-Beefy-Purple-Pig Vernon gets to threaten him!”� James turned to Sirius. “Padfoot, when I die, if Harry needs to be threatened, you can threaten him.”�

            “Wicked,”� said Sirius.

            _Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television. Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley’s favorite form of entertainment._

“And we’ve been wanting to make _Snivellus_ miserable?”� Peter asked. “In my opinion, we should go after these Dursleys.”�

            “I can assure you all that if you ever started hexing them, I would sit there without any complaint,”� said Remus. “They are being absolutely horrible to Harry.”�

            “Yes!”� James. “Just wait until we get you, Dursleys!”�

            _“Firstly,”� growled Uncle Vernon, “you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talking to Marge.”�_

_“All right,”� said Harry bitterly, “if she does when she’s talking to me.”�_

_“Secondly,”� said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry’s reply, “as Marge doesn’t know anything about your_ abnormality _, I don’t want any- any_ funny _stuff while she’s here. You behave yourself, got me?”�_

_“I will if she does,”� said Harry through gritted teeth._

“Harry, you’re such a trooper,”� said James fondly. “Living with those awful relatives and times like these. You’re the best son.”�

            _“And thirdly,”� said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face._

“It’s proof!”� said Sirius. “Moony, he _is_ turning into a blueberry! It even said that his face is purple! What have you got to say about that?”�

            “I say that he’s not, because Harry doesn’t even know how to turn people into blueberries! _We_ don’t even know how to turn people into blueberries!”� said Remus.

            “Fun sucker,”� Sirius muttered.

            _“We’ve told Marge you attend St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.”�_

_“What?”� Harry yelled._

“What?!”� James shouted. 

            _“And you’ll be sticking to that story, boy, or they’ll be trouble,”� spat Uncle Vernon._

_Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it. Aunt Marge coming for a week long visit- it was the worst birthday present the Dursley’s had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks._

“Oh, that’s it!”� said James, standing up and pointing at the book. “Harry, you _turn_ your Uncle into a blueberry if you want to! Your father completely approves!”�

            _“Well, Petunia,”� said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, “I’ll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?”�_

_“No,”� said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry._

_“Duddy’s got to make himself smart for his auntie,”� said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley’s thick blonde hair. “Mummy’s bought him a lovely new bow tie.”�_

“Oh, I think it’s too late for bowties,”� said Sirius. “Dudley is too stupid for a bowtie to make him smart. Not to mention, he’s blonde.”�

            “Hey!”� said Peter angrily. “I’m blonde!”�

            _Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder._

_“See you in a bit, then,”� he said, and he left the kitchen._

_Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea. Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door._

_Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat._

_“I’m not taking_ you _,”� he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him._

“Why would my son _want_ to go with you?”� said James huffily. “Why would anyone want to _sit in a car_ with you? Why would anyone _want to live_ with you? Why would anyone want to _have-_ ”�

            “Shhh!”� said Remus. “Don’t go on, Prongs. We really don’t want to hear it.”�

            “Sorry, sorry.”�

            _“Like I wanted to come,”� said Harry coldly. “I want to ask you something.”�_

_Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously._

_“Third years at Hog- at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes,”� said Harry._

_“So?”� snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door._

_“I need you to sign the permission form,”� said Harry in a rush._

_“And why should I do that?”� sneered Uncle Vernon._

“BECAUSE HIS FATHER SAID SO!”� screamed James. “That’s why!”�

            _“Well,”� said Harry, choosing his words carefully, “it’ll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I got to that St. Whatsits-”�_

_“St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!”� bellowed Uncle Vernon, and Harry was please to hear a definite not of panic in Uncle Vernon’s voice._

_“Exactly,”� said Harry, looking calmly into Uncle Vernon’s large, purple face._

“Moony, all the signs point to him being a giant, human, blueberry!”� Sirius said, exasperated.

            _“It’s a lot to remember. I’ll have to make it sound convincing, won’t I? What if I accidentally let something slip?”�_

_“You’ll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won’t you?”� roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry with his fist raised._

“No, you won’t!”� James yelled at the book. “Vernon, I’m going to knock the stuffing out of _you_!”�

            _But Harry stood his ground._

“Good, Harry!”� James said. “Don’t let the mean pig get to you!”�

            _“Knocking the stuffing out of me won’t make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her,”� he said grimly._

_Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce._

_“But if you sign my permission form,”� Harry went on quickly, “I swear I’ll remember where I’m supposed to go to school, and I’ll act like a Mug- like I’m normal and everything.”�_

_Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple._

_“Right,”� he snapped finally. “I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge’s visit. If, at the end of it, you’ve toed the line and kept to the story, I’ll sign your ruddy form.”�_

_He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass fell out._

“Wow,”� said Peter. “I think someone needs some anger management.”�

            “CoughUncleVernoncough!”� added Sirius.

            _Harry didn’t return to the kitchen. He went back upstairs to his bedroom. If he was going to act like a real Muggle, he’d better start now. Slowly and sadly he gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework. Then he went to Hedwig’s cage. Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings. Harry sighed, then poked them both awake._

Remus sighed as well. “I really hope he gets his form signed,”� he said. “He’s going to have a miserable time, I bet.”�

_“Hedwig,”� he said gloomily, “you’re going to have to clear off for a week. Go with Errol. Ron’ll look after you. I’ll write him a note, explaining. And don’t look at me like that”� —Hedwig’s large amber eyes were reproachful- “it’s not my fault. It’s the only way I’ll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione.”�_

_Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe._

James looked sad. “What my son does to go to Hogsmeade with his friends,”� he said. “But he’s a Potter. He’ll make it. Potters are strong!”� He raised his arm and flaunted his muscle.

            “Shut up,”� said Sirius, pushing James’ arm down. “Stop talking about how great a Quidditch player you are.”�

            “I wasn’t,”� said James.

            “But you were really close.”�

            _But Harry didn’t have long to brood. In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest._

_“Do something about your hair!”� Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall._

            _Harry couldn’t see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat. Aunt Marge loved criticizing him, so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be._

“Oh yes, people who love to criticize others,”� said Remus dully. “Doesn’t she sound fun?”�

            “Extremely,”� said Peter in the same tone.

            _All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon’s car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path._

_“Get the door!”� Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry._

“Ay!”� James. “He’s not your doorman! If you want a doorman, go to a hotel!”�

            _A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open._

_On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his._

“Hey, look, another blueberry!”� said Sirius brightly.

            _In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog._

_“Where’s my Dudders?”� roared Aunt Marge. “Where’s my neffypoo?”�_

_Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins._

“You know what, Prongs. The pig and the horse didn’t just have killer whale for a son,”� Sirius said.

            “What did they have?”� James asked.

            “A killer penguin!”� Sirius laughed, as did James and Peter.

            Remus didn’t laugh, just blinked. “A killer penguin?”�

            “Yeah!”� said Sirius. “You know! He was waddling! That’s what penguins do, they waddle! And he’s like a killer whale, so he’s a killer penguin! Get it? Isn’t that funny?”�

            “Um…not really.”�

            “Want to hear a werewolf joke?”�

            “No!”�

            “Just asking. Thought you might think one of those were funnier.”�

            _Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek._

            _Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge’s hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist._

“Brat,”� stated Peter.

            “Where’s Harry’s money?”� James demanded. “Well that’s fine, Marge, keep your stinky money, Harry doesn’t want it anyway! He’s got my money! And Lily’s money! Which means, our money! And that’s better than yours any day! Ha!”�

            _“Petunia!”� shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Harry as though he was a hat stand._

“My son is _not_ a hat stand!”� said James angrily.

            “Prongs, it was another expression. Not a very nice one, but it was,”� said Remus.

            “Hat stand!”� James angrily repeated to no one in particular.

            _Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunia’s bony cheekbone._

“Ahh!”� said Sirius. “What are they, gay?”�

            “Padfoot!”� Remus scolded. “They were just greeting each other! “It doesn’t make them gay. Petunia married Vernon, remember?”�

            “Oh. Yeah.”�

            _Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door._

_“Tea, Marge?”� he said. “And what will Ripper take?”�_

_“Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer,”� said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase._

“What a disgusting dog,”� said Sirius. “He’s going to get his germs all over. Slobbery bulldog.”�

            “You know, _you_ can become a dog,”� said Peter. “And dogs sniff people’s butts.”�

            “Be quiet, ratboy!”�

            _But Harry wasn’t complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by him, so he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could._

_By the time he got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Harry saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor._

“He’s an insult to dogs everywhere!”� Sirius whined.

            “But you’re not really a dog, you know,”� said Remus. “You can just become one.”�

            “He’s still insulting me,”� said Sirius.

            _Aunt Petunia hated animals._

“Okay,”� said Peter. “Let’s go ruin her house!”�

            “Yeah!”� said James. “Feel the fury of the stag, rat, dog, and werewolf, for being so mean to my son! We will tear your house apart! We will- wait, Moony, would you be offended if I said something?”�

            “Like what?”� Remus asked.

            “That we will huff, and puff, and blow their house down!”�

            “Er, yes, I’m slightly offended, but I’ll not get angry with you,”� said Remus.

“Who’s looking after the other dogs, Marge?”� Uncle Vernon asked.

_“Oh, I’ve got Colonel Fubster managing them,”� boomed Aunt Marge. “He’s retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn’t leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he’s away from me.”�_

“Idiot dog,”� Sirius commented.

            _Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down. This directed Aunt Marge’s attention to Harry for the first time._

_“So!”� she barked. “Still here, are you?”�_

_“Yes,”� said Harry._

_“Don’t you say ‘yes’ in that ungrateful tone,”� Aunt Marge growled. “It’s damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn’t have done it myself. You’d have gone straight to an orphanage if you’d been dumped on my doorstep.”�_

“I bet he’d rather live at an orphanage that with you or the Dursleys,”� James retorted to the book.

            _Harry was bursting to say that he’d rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped him._

“Like father, like son,”� James said fondly.

            _He forced his face into a painful smile._

_“Don’t you smirk at me!”� boomed Aunt Marge. “I can see you haven’t improved since I last saw you.”�_

“From what we’ve heard, I’m assuming neither have you,”� said James.

            “From what we’ve heard, I’m assuming that you love to make people miserable,”� said Remus.

            “From what we’ve heard, I’m assuming all of your dogs are idiots,”� said Sirius.

            “From what we’ve heard, I’m assuming that you haven’t looked into going on a diet,”� said Peter.

            _“I hoped school would knock some manners into you.”� She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, “Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?”�_

_“St. Brutus’s,”� said Uncle Vernon promptly. “It’s a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.”�_

“Why don’t you go there, Vernon?”� asked James.

            _“I see,”� said Aunt Marge. “Do they use the cane at St. Brutus’s, boy?”� she barked across the table._

“You know,”� said Sirius, “I think she spends too much time with those dogs of hers. It says that she’s barking again- yes, Moony, I’m aware that it’s an expression!”� he added, as Remus had opened his mouth.

            _“Er-”�_

_Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge’s back._

_“Yes,”� said Harry. Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, “all the time.”�_

_“Excellent,”� said Aunt Marge. “I won’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it.”�_

“But Aunt Marge,”� said Peter, “what are you talking about? You and the Dursleys have needed to be hit for the longest time!”�

            _“A good thrashing is what’s needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have_ you _been beaten often?”�_

_“Oh, yeah,”� said Harry, “loads of times.”�_

_Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes._

_“I still don’t like your tone, boy,”� she said. “If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren’t hitting you hard enough. Petunia, I’d write if I were you. Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy’s case.”�_

“And in Aunt Marge’s case, I without a doubt approve the use of heavy duty, super bonkers, extreme, gonna-knock-your-socks off, bloody force,”� said James.

            _Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly._

_“Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?”�_

_As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly of life at number four without her._

“Well, who wouldn’t?”� Remus asked.

            “I can’t wait until she leaves,”� said James.

            _Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do. Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement. She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn’t got a present too. She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person._

James looked ready to strangle someone. His hands were already furiously twisting the bottom of his shirt. “I’m gonna kill her!”� he yelled. “Just wait! Just wait!”�

            “Prongs!”� said Sirius, noticing what James was doing. “Stop! At this rate, you’re going to kill your shirt first.”�

            “She can’t do that to my son!”� James said. “Get revenge, Harry, get revenge! Take off her pants or something!”�

            _“You musn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon, she said over lunch on the third day. “If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”�_

“Oh,”� said Peter in mock conception. “Now I get it!”�

 “So _that’s_ why she’s still such a horrible person!”� said Remus in fake comprehension.

Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn with anger. Remember the form, he told himself. Think about Hogsmeade. Don’t say anything. Don’t rise-

_Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine._

_“It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,”� she said. “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, they’ll be something wrong with the pup-”�_

“EXCUSE ME?!”� James roared at the book. “HOW DARE YOU COMPARE BEAUTIFUL, GORGEOUS LILY EVANS TO A DOG!”�

            “Hey, now you’re insulting me!”� said Sirius.

            “I’m not talking about _you_ as a dog!”� said James, still angry. “First she insults my kid, now she insults my wife! She can’t do this!”�

            _At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand. Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping._

_“Marge!”� squealed Aunt Petunia. “Marge, are you alright?”�_

_“Not to worry,”� grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. “Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster’s the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…”�_

“Damn!”� said James. “Why couldn’t one of those wineglass shards tear up her ugly face? Or hit her eye, and then she would be doing us a favor and dying.”�

            _But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he’d better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as he could._

_Outside in the hall, he leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. It had been a long time since he’d lost control and made something explode. He couldn’t afford to let it happen again. The Hogsmeade form wasn’t the only thing at stake- if he carried on like that, he’d be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic._

“Oh no! Not my son in trouble with the Ministry!”� said James. “He can’t! I hate this chapter! I can’t take it anymore! Moony, skip it!”�

            “No, I can’t,”� said Remus. “You can’t just _skip parts of a book_. There could be something in here crucial to our understanding later. Every page has something to say.”�

            “Uh…yeah. What he said,”� said Peter. “Anyway, I want to hear the rest of the story.”�

            “Alright, fine. I just hate her!”� said James.

            _Harry was still an underage wizard, and he was forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school. His record wasn’t exactly clean either. Only last summer he’d gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts._

“What?”� James asked. “Why has my son been doing magic? Oh well, if it was against those Dursleys, then I really don’t care. But you can’t expel my son!”�

            _He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way._

_Harry got through the next three days by forcing himself to think about his_ Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare _whenever Aunt Marge started on him. This worked quite well, though it seemed to give him a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal._

“My son is _not_ subnormal!”� complained James.

            _At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge’s stay arrived._

“Yes!”� Sirius cheered. “No more Aunt Marge!”�

            “Conga line!”� shouted James. 

            Sirius and James jumped up and began congaing around the room. “Da da da da da, da! Da da da da da, da!”�

            Peter tilted his head side to side at James and Sirius’ da da das, and Remus had to cover his face with the book, because he had started laughing at them all so hard.

            _Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine. They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry’s faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them all with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy._

_“Can I tempt you, Marge?”�_

_Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine. Her huge face was very red._

“Maybe she’ll get so drunk that she’ll kill herself,”� said Peter hopefully.

            “Maybe,”� said Sirius. “But I don’t know.”�

            “Really!”� said Peter. “I learned it in Muggle school.”�

            “I learned in a book,”� said Remus, “that people who consume too much alcohol are severely damaging their livers, and they can die from that.”�

            “I wonder how much her liver has already been damaged?”� James said.

            _“Just a small one, then,”� she chuckled. “A bit more than that…and a bit more…that’s the ticket.”�_

_Dudley was eating his forth slice of pie. Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger out._

“Like that’s going to make her any more appealing,”� said Sirius.

            Peter, who had been eating some of the chocolate with his own little finger sticking out, quickly put it down.

            _Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon’s angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out._

_“Aah,”� said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down._

“What? She finished it that fast?”� asked Peter. “Drunken pig.”�

            _“Excellent nosh, Petunia. It’s normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…”� She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. “Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,”� she went on, winking at Dudley. “You’ll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I’ll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…”�_

“Proper-sized?”� Sirius snorted. “That’s not proper-sized.”�

            “Maybe she was thinking about the proper weights of young killer whales,”� Remus suggested.

_“Now this one here-”�_

_She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench. The Handbook, he thought quickly._

_“This one’s got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred.”�_

Sirius gasped. “You can’t do that!”�

            _Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book:_ A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers.

            _“It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I’m saying nothing against your family, Petunia”� —she patted Aunt Petunia’s bony hand with her shovel-like one- “but your sister was a bad egg.”�_

“Lily Evans is NOT a bad egg!”� retorted James furiously. “She’s beautiful and gorgeous and firm and…wow. I actually don’t know too much about her personality. Moony, what’s she like?”�

            “Well…”� said Remus slowly. “Lily doesn’t really like people who make others miserable. She’s very kind. And very smart too. She has this way of seeing something in you, something wonderful, even if you can’t-”�

            “Moony!”� said James, astounded. “What are you, stealing my girl?”�

            “No, no!”� said Remus quickly. “I’m just good friends with her. Not as good as with you guys, of course.”�

            “Alright. Good.”�

            _“They turn up in the best of families. Then she-”�_

Remus stopped. “Prongs, you’re going to get angry by these next lines. I’m sorry.”� 

“Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.”�

“I’M NOT A WASTREL!”�

            _Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he thought. But he couldn’t remember what came next. Aunt Marge’s voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills._

_“This Potter,”� said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, “you never told me what he did?”�_

_Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley hadn’t even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents._

_“He- didn’t work,”� said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry. “Unemployed.”�_

“What?! I’m not unemployed! At least, I don’t think I will be! Nah, I can’t be! Don’t you say I’m unemployed!”� James cried firmly.

            _“As I expected!”� said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who-”�_

_“He was not,”� said Harry suddenly._

“That’s right Harry!”� said James. “Defend your father! Don’t believe her!”�

            _The table suddenly went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life._

_“MORE BRANDY!”� yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge’s glass. “You, boy,”� he snarled at Harry. “Go to bed, go on-”�_

_“No, Vernon,”� hiccupped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry’s. “Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect)-”�_

_“They didn’t die in a car crash!”� said Harry, who found himself on his feet._

“That’s right!”� said James. “You tell her, Harry!”�

            _“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!”� screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury. “You are an insolent, ungrateful little-”�_

“You can’t talk about my son like that!”�

            _But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger- but the swelling didn’t stop. Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech- next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls- she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami-_

“EXPLOSIONS!”� yelled Peter.

            “HUMAN BLUEBERRIES!”� shouted Sirius.

            “FIERY, VIRULENT ANGER!”� yelled Remus.

            “THE BEST SON IN THE WORLD!”� bellowed James.

            _“MARGE!”� yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge’s whole body began to rise off her chair toward the ceiling. She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises._

“Moony! I told you! Someone _did_ turn into a blueberry! Okay, so not really a blueberry exactly, but she blew up!”� said Sirius happily.

            “Fine. You were right. You win,”� said Remus.

            “Yes!”� Sirius. He high-fived Peter. “I have to watch that Willy Wonka movie with you. We can rename that Violet Beauregard ‘Marge’.

            _Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly._

_“NOOOOOOO!”�_

_Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge’s feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself. A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon’s leg._

“Ha!”� said Peter. “You get what you deserve!”�

            _Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him, heading for the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard door burst magically open as he reached it. In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door. He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents. He wriggled out, seized Hedwig’s empty cage, and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters._

“Ha!”� said Peter again. “It’s too bad that dog didn’t kill you.”�

            _“COME BACK IN HERE!”� he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!”�_

            _But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon._

_“She deserved it,”� Harry said, breathing very fast. She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”�_

“That’s right!”� said James. “You keep away from my son!”�

            _He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door._

_“I’m going,”� Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”�_

_And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig’s cage under his arm._

“Wow,”� said Sirius. “Prongs, your son really does take after you.”�

            “My son!”� said James, grinning broadly. “I love him! It’s such a shame that I have to die. Just think of the possibilities! We would prank together! Scheme together! It would be amazing! He _told_ that aunt! Ha!”�

            James seemed entirely too enthusiastic for words anymore.

            “Next chapter!”� said Peter. “This is great! We have to read more!”�

            “I want to see more brilliant things my son does!”� said James.

            “Yeah, Moony. Read on!”�

            “And so, on we go to chapter three,”� said Remus, flicking his eyes to the beginning of the next chapter.

            A chapter in which the story would truly get started, and someone would be very unhappy with his future.


	3. Chapter Three

“Chapter Three,”� began Remus. _“The Knight Bus.”�_

            “Ahhhh!”� shrieked Peter. “No! No! Not _the Knight Bus!_ Ahhh!”�

            “Wormtail, what are you yelling about?”� Sirius asked.

            “Yeah, why are you so scared of the Knight Bus?”� said James.

            “I’ll tell you!”� said Peter. “And I have good reason to be afraid!”�

            “Fine, tell us,”� said Sirius.

            “It was a dark and stormy day,”� began Peter dramatically.

            Remus raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Okay, fine! It was a bright and sunny day!”� Peter admitted. “But it sounds better when I say it was dark and stormy!”�

            “Well, anyway, Wormtail, don’t lie in your story. It’s not very interesting or good when you lie,”� said Remus.

            “Right,”� Peter continued. “So it was a _bright_ and _sunny_ day a few years ago, and I was on the Knight Bus. And the bus was making me feel sick because whoever drives that bus doesn’t drive it too well. And I was on the second level. And then they turned a corner and I…I…I fell down the stairs to the first level and smacked my head!”�

            “Ow,”� said James. “I always thought something had hit you on the head.”�

            “Hey!”�

            “Sorry, but you know, that story was kind of boring,”� said Sirius.

            “Can we find out what happens to my son now?”� asked James.

            “Yes,”� said Remus. “Chapter Three. _The-”�_

            “Don’t say it!”�

            _“-Knight Bus.”�_

            “Ahhh!”�

            _Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. He sat quite still, anger surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart._

          “Ahhh!”� shrieked James. “My son is having a heart attack!”�

            “No he’s not,”� said Remus. “He’s just really angry. And when a person is really angry their heart beats really fast. Trust me, I know.”�

            “When have you been really angry?”� asked Peter.

            “When do you think?”�

            “Oh…”�

            _But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook him: panic. Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix. He was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go._

“No! My son cannot be all alone! He has to find somewhere!”� said James.

            _And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic-_

“Heh, what kind of ‘Sirius’ magic?”� James teased.

            “Don’t start the name pun again!”� Sirius told him.

            “That darn serious Sirius,”� mocked James.

            Sirius shoved him. “Stop it!”�

            _-which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic Representatives weren’t swooping down on him where he sat._

_Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the wizarding world?_

“He can’t!”� said James angrily. “You can’t do that to my son!”�

            _He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sank even lower. Harry was sure that criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting them._

“This is even worse!”� said James. “Not only are they making my son a criminal, but now he’s a _lonely_ criminal!”�

            _He didn’t have any Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the moneybag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London._

“Fortune?”� asked James. “Yes! Lily and I still have a fortune for Harry, and so even though we’ve died, we still have enough money for him to take care of himself. Hmm…do you guys think we should tell Lily that she’s going to die?”�

            “Maybe,”� said Peter.

            “Well,”� said Remus. “If you tell Lily that she’s going to die, she’s most likely going to ask why. When you mention that it’s because Voldemort kills you and her and that she sacrifices herself for Harry, she’s going to ask who Harry is and why Voldemort killed you and her. Then she’ll find out that you are going to marry her and you two will have a son named Harry. She might start laughing and regard the whole thing as a joke.”�

            “Wow,”� said James. “You know her _that_ well?”�

            “Er, well I’m pretty sure that’s what would happen.”�

            “I really need to start being friends with Lily. If only she’d stop slapping me…”�

            _Unless…_

_He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. If he was already expelled (his heart was now thumping painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn’t hurt. He-_

Remus stopped. “Hey Prongs, look what else your son has!”�

            “What?”�

            _He had the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father._

“Harry has the Invisibility Cloak? Good! I have no idea how he got it, but at least he has it!”�

            “Sounds like he’s turning out the way you would have raised him!”� said Sirius.

            “Such a good mischief maker!”� prided James.

            _What if he bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to his broomstick, covered himself in the cloak, and flew to London? Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and…begin his life as an outcast. It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn’t sit on this wall forever, or he’d find himself trying to explain to Muggle police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunkful of spellbooks and a broomstick._

“Oh no!”� cried James. “My son is going to be an outcast! That’s a bad life choice, Harry! What are you going to do now that you’re an outcast? I don’t want to read a book about my son being an outcast!”�

            _Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents aside looking for the Invisibility Cloak- but before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more._

_A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel like he was being watched-_

“Oh my God!”� said Peter. “He knows that we’re watching him as we read this book!”�

            “Don’t be stupid,”� said Sirius. “This book was already written. He can’t know that we’re watching him…right?”�

            “No, I don’t think so,”� Remus said. “It must be something else.”�

_\- but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses._

_He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand. He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him._

“Hmm…”� said Sirius. “Prongs, do you think your son has dog senses? I mean, he sensed someone.”�

            “Maybe Harry is an Animagus!”� said James. “That’d be cool!”�

            “But…you know…he’d have to be registered and everything. Unless he was an unregistered Animagus…”� said Remus, grinning ominously at his friends.

            “Yeah!”� said James.

            “But I think the book would have mentioned it,”� Remus told them.

            “I guess so.”�

            _Harry squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he’d know whether it was just a stray cat or- something else._

_“Lumos,”� Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes._

“Ack!”� said James. “My son is going to be attacked by some sort of monster!”�

            _Harry stepped backward. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter-_

“Ow, that must have hurt!”� said Peter.

            “I know!”� said Sirius. “His mind will never be the same!”�

            “What are you talking about?”� James asked. “His brain didn’t hit the gutter, his butt did!”�

            “Wait…oh, that gutter?”� said Sirius. “You mean they weren’t talking about-?”�

            “No, not _that_ kind of gutter!”� Remus said quickly, realizing what Sirius was talking about. “No need to say that _your_ mind has fallen down the gutter if you’re mistaking ordinary street gutters for _those_ kind of gutters.”�

            “You really do suck the fun out of everything.”�

            _There was a deafening BANG, and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light-_

_With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time._

“Yeah, because we don’t want to see any road kill,”� said Sirius.

            James glared at him.

            “What?”� asked Sirius innocently. “I was just saying! He could have inherited your stag-ness you know. You know, cars come and-”� He put on a expression of wide-eyed dopiness. “And then they die.”�

            “Hey, I don’t do that!”� James said, crossing his arms.  “Since when have we come across cars during the night anyway?”�

            “Well…we haven’t, but when we do…”�

            _A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to halt exactly where Harry had just been lying. They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decked, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering of the windshield spelled The Knight Bus._

“No!”� said Peter.

            _For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall. Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night._

_“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve-”�_

_The conductor stopped abruptly._

“Maybe a car is coming and he’s stopped to look at it and we’ll see road kill!”� said Sirius.

            “Padfoot!”� said Remus loudly.

            “Sorry, sorry…”�

            _He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close up, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large protruding ears and quite a few pimples._

_“What were you doin’ down there?”� said Stan, dropping his professional matter._

“See, isn’t it always like that?”� said Peter. “People talk all nice to make people think that they’re what they’re not.”�

            “Yeah,”� added Remus. “I don’t fancy that too much.”�

            “Works nice on girls though,”� Sirius commented. “Teachers too.”�

_“Fell over,”� said Harry._

_“’Choo fall over for?”� sniggered Stan._

_“I didn’t do it on purpose,”� said Harry, annoyed._

“Yeah, that’s right!”� James said. “My son has the right to fall when he feels like it or not!”�

            _One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and the fence. The Knight Bus’s headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty._

_“’Choo lookin’ at?”� said Stan._

“Hey! My son has the right to look at whatever he feels like looking at! Don’t ask him why!”�

            _“There was a big black thing,”� said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap. “Like a dog…but massive…”�_

_He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead._

_“Woss that on you ‘ead?”� said Stan abruptly._

“Well, that’s a stupid question,”� said James. “It could be talking about anything!”�

            “Yeah! There’s lots of things on people’s heads,”� said Peter.

            “Like eyes,”� said James.

            “And ears,”� added Sirius.

            “And mouth”� said James.

“And nose,”� said Sirius, grinning at James. James grinned back. They were obviously thinking the same thing.

            “Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes!”�

            This sent Sirius and James into laughter, and then they stood up, and started doing the whole song with the movements.

            _“Head, shoulders, knees and toes_  
 _Knees and toes!_  
 _Head, shoulders, knees and toes_  
 _Knees and toes!_  
 _Eyes and ears and mouth and nose!_  
 _Head, shoulders, knees and toes_  
 _Knees and toes!”�_

During the singing, Remus and Peter had been rolling their eyes at each other and laughing at them.

            “Well then,”� said Remus. “Now that you two have finally learned the names of your body parts, do you mind if I continue reading?”�

            “Oh, yeah, not at all.”�

            “Go on.”�

            _“Nothing,”� said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them._

_“Woss your name?”� Stan persisted._

_“Neville Longbottom,”� said Harry, saying the first name that came into his head. “So- so this bus,”� he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?”�_

_“Yep,”� said Stan proudly, “anywhere you like, long’s it’s on land. Can’t do nuffink underwater. ‘Ere,”� he said, looking suspicious again, “you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ‘and, dincha?”�_

“You know what, Moony,”� said Peter. “You sound really stupid doing that accent.”�

            “Yeah, you do,”� said Sirius. “It’s not a good accent for you. Don’t ever do it again unless you’re reading things that Stan Shunpike says.”�

            “’Choo don’t want me to speak like this ever again? Nuffink, not even one little word ‘ere and there?”� Remus asked, doing the accent.

            “No!”� said James.

            “Right, okay,”� said Remus, laughing. “But too bad, because he’s going to start talking again.”�

_“Yes,”� said Harry quickly. “Listen, how much would it be to get to London?”�_

_“Eleven Sickles,”� said Stan, “But for firteen you get ‘ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ‘ot water bottle an’ a toofbrush in the color of your choice.”�_

Peter started nodding. “Yep, don’t ever speak like that in your own free will.”�

            _Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his moneybag, and shoved some gold into Stan’s hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig’s cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus._

_There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass besteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, “Not now, thanks, I’m pickling some slugs”� and rolled over in his sleep._

Sirius began laughing at the wizard. “Ha, pickling slugs!”�

            _“You ‘ave this one,”� Stan whispered, shoving Harry’s trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. “This is our driver, Ernie Prang.”�_

“What?”� James asked. “Ernie _Prong_?”�

            “No, Ernie _Prang_ ,”� said Sirius.

            _“This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.”�_

_Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed._

_“Take ‘er away, Ern,”� said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie’s._

_There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus._

“See, I told you it’s an evil bus!”� said Peter. “You’re lucky that Harry is on the first level!”�

            _Pulling himself up, Harry stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry’s stunned face with great enjoyment._

_“This is where we was before you flagged us down,”� he said, “Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?”�_

_“Ar,”� said Ernie._

“Wicked!”� said Sirius. “He’s a pirate!”�

            “Don’t be daft, he’s not a pirate, it just said he was the bus driver!”� said Remus.

            “He could be a pirate in his spare time,”� Sirius pointed out. “Like his second job. Or his,”� he paused for a dramatic effect, “secret identity!”�

            “I really think that _you_ were the one who got smacked on the head,”� said Remus, shaking his head, and looking back at the book.

            “No, really, it could happen! You know, like…Secret Pirate Man!”�

            “Secret _what_?”�

            “He’s a Secret Pirate Man!”�

            “We should make up a theme song!”� suggested James.

            “Yeah!”�

            _“How come the Muggles don’t hear the bus?”� said Harry._

_“Them!”� said Stan contemptuously. “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don’.”�_

_“Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan,”� said Ern. “We’ll be in Abergavenny in a minute.”�_

_Stan passed Harry’s bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase._

“The staircase of doom!”� added Peter.

            _Harry was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn’t seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn’t hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed._

“Oh, so _that’s_ why there hasn’t been any road kill!”� said Sirius.

            _Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak._

_“’Ere you go, Madam Marsh,”� said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or two toward the front of the bus._

“You see?”� said Peter. “Do you see why I’m afraid?”�

            “Sort of,”� said James. “But it makes an awesome ride.”�

            _Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw he bag out after he and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way._

_Harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had been traveling on a bus that didn’t keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. His stomach churned as he fell back to wondering what was going to happen to him, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet._

“I hope not,”� said James eagerly.

            “Yeah, but Prongs, you know what that means, don’t you?”� asked Remus.

            “What?”� said James.

            “It means that Harry would be in even more trouble that he already is. I mean, assuming that he’s in any.”�

            James was silent for a few seconds as he thought about this. “I hope Aunt Marge got off the ceiling!”�

            _Stan had unfurled a copy of the_ Daily Prophet _and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page._

“Ergh, he sounds ugly,”� said Sirius.

            _He looked strangely familiar._

_“That man!”� Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. “He was on the Muggle news!”�_

_Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled._

_“S- ”�_

“-Um, guys,”� Remus said, interrupting himself. “Are you sure…um, do you want to take a break from reading now?”�

            “No,”� said Peter. “This book is fun. Keep reading!”�

            “Erm, I don’t know if we should.”�

            “Fine then, I’ll read it aloud for us instead,”� Sirius offered.

            “No, no! I…I think it’s better if I just do it. So…”�

_Sirius Black,”� he said, nodding. “’Course ‘e was on the Muggle news, Neville, where you been?”�_

“What?!”� Sirius shouted. “Wait…that’s ME?”�

            “Erm…I think so,”� said Remus.

            “No!”� said Sirius. “I can’t be…be…ugly!”�

            James snorted with laughter.

            “Ay! You shut up! I don’t see you here! Oh wait. You’re dead!”�

            _He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry’s face, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry._

_“You oughta read the papers more, Neville.”�_

_Harry held the paper up to the candle light and read:”�_

But Remus didn’t read on. “Are you sure you want to hear the article?”� he asked them all.

            “I guess so,”� Sirius grumbled.

            **_BLACK STILL AT LARGE_**

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,”� said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”� Fudge has been criticized by some of the members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. “Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,”� said irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it- who’d believe him if he did?”� While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of mental wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

            “Er…so…that’s that…”� said Remus mildly; not being able to believe what he had just read aloud.

            “Wait, wait, stop! I’ve WHAT?! I KILLED people? I went to AZKABAN? I ESCAPED? I’m ON THE RUN?”� Sirius yelled. “What the hell is wrong with my future self?”�

            “Padfoot!”� Peter gasped. “You murdered people! I can’t believe you did that!”�

            “Shut up, ratboy!”� Sirius snarled. “I don’t see you as the murderer here!”�

            James seemed at a loss for words. He couldn’t think of anything to say about the fact that his best friend became a murderer who escaped from Azkaban.

            _Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen picture of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one._

            “PRONGS!”� Sirius bellowed. “Your son just called me a VAMPIRE! I’m not a VAMPIRE! Go control that son of yours!”�

            “Well if you’ve noticed,”� said James. “I CAN’T. I’m DEAD, remember?”�

            “Fine…well…still!”�

            “Go tell Moony to make Harry behave.”�

            “MOONY!”� said Sirius. “Your friend’s son just called me a VAMPIRE! Control that son of your friend’s! Moony, just read the next page already!”�

            _“Scary lookin’ fing, inee?”� said Stan, who had been watching Harry read._

_“He murdered thirteen people?”� said Harry, handing the page back to Stan. “with one curse?”�_

            “Oh LOOK!”� screeched Sirius. “Now your son is rubbing it in! Thanks a lot, Harry!”�

            _“Yep,”� said Stan, “in front of witnesses an’ all. Broad daylight. Big troubled it caused, dinnit, Ern?”�_

_“Ar,”� said Ern darkly._

            “Um,”� James asked Sirius quietly. “Want to make the Secret Pirate Man song?”�

            “No!”�

            “Okay. Just asking.”�

            _Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry._

 Remus stopped reading again, glancing at the next few words. “You know, I don’t think we should keep reading this.”�

            “MOONY, IF YOU DON’T KEEP READING THAT FUTURE BOOK, THEN DURING THE NEXT FULL MOON I WILL MAKE YOUR TRANSFORMATION THE WORST IT’S EVER BEEN!”� Sirius yelled. “Stupid werewolves, think they can control everyone just because they turn into bloodthirsty beasts every month…”�

            “PADFOOT, WILL YOU SHUT UP ABOUT THAT?!”� Remus suddenly roared, taking them all by surprise. “YOU THINK I NEED A REMINDER OF WHAT I COULD DO EVERY MONTH? I DON’T LIKE THINKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT I AM CAPABLE OF SEVERELY INJURING OR MURDERING SOMEONE!”�

            “YEAH, WELL I ALREADY DID MURDER PEOPLE, SO WHAT ARE YOU TALKING TO ME ABOUT MURDERING FOR?!”� Sirius shouted.

            “ALWAYS WITH THE WEREWOLF STUFF! THE WEREWOLF JOKES, THE WEREWOLF COMMENTS! CAN’T YOU EVER STOP MAKING SNIDE ANNOTATIONS ABOUT THAT?!”�

            “I TURN OUT TO BE THIS MURDERER, AND ALL YOU THINK ABOUT IS YOU, YOU, YOU! DO YOU EVEN CARE THAT I’M A MURDERER NOW? NO, YOU DON’T! ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOU AND YOUR STUPID WEREWOLF SELF!”�

            “Guys, GUYS!”� James yelled at them. “Will you shut up and stop arguing?!”�

            “Prongs, he doesn’t stop making comments about my condition! He thinks it’s some huge, hilarious joke!”� said Remus stiffly.

            “Well, Moony thinks that it’s just some walk in the park about my future! Does he care that his friend is this murderer? No!”� said Sirius angrily.

            “Children…”� said Peter.

            “I’m not a child!”� said Sirius. “I’m a MURDERER, Wormtail, MURDERER! As Moony is only too kind to not care about!”�

            “I don’t even qualify as a child!”� said Remus. “Half the time I get shunted over into the  ‘Beast’ Classification!”�

            “Moony!”� said James, picking up the book from the ground and throwing the book at him. “Now sit down and read! Padfoot, sit down and shut up!”�

            Sirius only sat down because James was one of the only people for whom he would obey. Remus sat down because he really didn’t want to start talking about himself being a werewolf.

            “Okay then,”� said James. “Now, since we’re all GOOD, APPRECIATIVE, FRIENDS, you two are going to apologize.”�

            “What is this, pre-school?”� Sirius rolled his eyes. “Murderers don’t do well in pre-school.”�

            Sirius was still very uptight about the murderer thing, but Remus figured he might as well try and let the werewolf comments go and forgive him. It wasn’t like he had found out that he himself was a murderer. He wasn’t even in the story.

            Not yet, anyway.

            “Sorry, Padfoot,”� said Remus. “But will you just stop it with the werewolf comments?”�

            “Well, I guess I might as well do one decent thing before I murder a bunch of people,”� said Sirius. “Sorry, Moony.”�

            “Now…”� said Peter slowly. “Can we start reading again?”�

            “Yeah,”� said Remus.

_“Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-Who,”� he said._

            “I’m a WHAT?!”�

            _“What, Voldemort?”� said Harry, without thinking._

            “What?”� said James. “First, he kills Lily and me, and then he has to go and terrorize the whole wizarding world! Now… he hasn’t done anything yet to us, but… well… we all have heard of him, and if he’s doing anything else mess up my son’s life… then…”� He shook his head; unable to figure out whatever he was going to end his sentence with.

            _Even Stan’s pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus._

_“You outta your tree?”� yelped Stan. “’Choo say ‘is name for?”�_

_“Sorry,”� said Harry hastily. “Sorry, I- I forgot-”�_

_“Forgot!”� said Stan weakly. “Blimey, my ‘earts goin’ that fast…”�_

_“So- so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?”� Harry prompted apologetically._

            Sirius grumbled irritably, but could not form any words.

            _“Yeah,”� said Stan, still rubbing his chest. “Yeah, that’s right. Very close to You-Know-‘Oo, they say. Anyway, when little ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-‘Oo-”�_

_Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again._

_“-all You-Know-‘Oo’s supporters was tracked down, wasn’t they, Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-‘Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I ‘eard he thought ‘e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-‘Oo ‘ad taken over.”�_

            Peter gasped, Remus made a nervous face as he looked at the next few sentences he had to read, and James looked tentatively over at Sirius, who was oddly quiet.

            _“Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. ‘Orrible, eh? An’ you know what Black did then?”� Stan continued in a dramatic whisper._

            Sirius was now staring wide-eyed at the book.

            _“Laughed,”� said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, ‘e went wiv ‘em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ‘is ‘ead off. ‘Cos ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”�_

_“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,”� said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you…after what he did…”�_

            Now, Sirius was staring at the book in a sort of horrified trance.

            _“They ‘ad a job coverin’ it up, din’ they, Ern?”� Stan said. “’Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead. What was it they said ‘ad ‘appened, Ern?”�_

_“Gas explosion,”� grunted Ernie._

_“An’ now ‘e’s out,”� said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black’s gaunt face again. “Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it. Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ‘is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?”�_

_Ernie suddenly shivered._

_“Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.”�_

_Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever._

Remus stopped reading and looked up from the book. “So…Padfoot…seems like that’s it...”�

            “I don’t believe it,”� said Peter.

            Sirius didn’t say anything. His face was frozen in a horrified look at the book.

            “Um, Padfoot, are you okay?”� James asked.

            Sirius suddenly began laughing oddly.

            “Me? Oh, yeah, I’m fine! Heh heh heh. Don’t worry yourself, Prongs. I’m great! Moony, could you just hold off on your reading for a second? I’ll be right back…”� Sirius stood up and walked to the door, exited, and shut the door behind him.

            **“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”�**

            A second later, the door reopened, and Sirius came back in, smiling unnaturally. “All good! So, Moony, where were we again?”�

            There was a moment of tense silence between Remus, James and Peter as they all looked at each other, worried for Sirius’ sanity.

            “Padfoot, are you sure you’ll be okay?”� James asked again.

            “Yes, great! Peachy! Now read on, read on!”�

            _He couldn’t help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights’ time._

_“’Ear about that ‘Arry Potter? Blew up ‘is aunt! We ‘ad ‘im ‘ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern? ‘E was tryin’ to run for it…”�_

_He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black._

Remus glanced up at Sirius to see if he would start yelling again, but Sirius did not. He just sat there with some broad grin on his face.

            _Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban? Harry didn’t know anything about the wizard prison, thought everyone he’d ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn’t soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid’s face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew._

_The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry’s pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesea to Aberdeen._

Remus tutted. “What a waste of chocolate…”�

_One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to go._

            “Isn’t everyone who gets off that bus happy?”� Peter said.

            _Finally, Harry was the only passenger left._

_"Right then, Neville,”� said Stan, clapping his hands, “where abouts in London?”�_

_“Diagon Alley,”� said Harry._

_“Righto,”� said Stan. “’Old tight, then…”�_

_BANG_

_They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus’s way. The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off- where, he didn’t know._

            “No, son, don’t do it!”� said James. “This is your dead- I mean, Not-Yet-Dead father speaking, and I say: don’t become an outcast! You should’ve gone to Ron’s house or something! Don’t be such an idiot, son!”�

            _Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley._

_“Thanks,”� Harry said to Ern._

_He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the pavement._

_“Well,”� said Harry. “’Bye then!”�_

            “No, my son. No, no, no!”� said James. “Don’t become an outcast! What kind of father will I be then?”�

            “A dead one?”� Peter suggested.

            “Son…son…no…”�

            _But Stan wasn’t paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron._

_“There you are Harry,”� said a voice._

_Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, “Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!”�_

_Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach- he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself._

            Peter snorted and laughed.

            “What do you think is so funny?”� James demanded of Peter. “You think it’s funny that my son is going to be arrested now?”�

            “No,”� said Peter. “I just think his name is funny. Fudge, I mean. Not Harry.”�

            _Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them._

_“What didja call Neville, Minister?”� he said excitedly._

_Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted._

_“Neville?”� he repeated, frowning. “This is Harry Potter.”�_

_“I knew it!”� Stan shouted gleefully. “Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!”�_

_“Yes,”� said Fudge testily, “well, I’m very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now…”�_

            “No, Fudge!”� said James. “I don’t care how fudge-y you are! You can NOT arrest my son for blowing up his aunt who rightfully deserves to be blown up!”�

            _Fudge increased the pressure on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord._

_“You’ve got him, Minister!”� said Tom. “Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?”�_

            “What?”� James said. “Now you’re going to get drunk?! Or try and make my son get drunk?”� He gasped. “Harry does NOT drink! He better not have!”�

            _“Perhaps a pot of tea,”� said Fudge, who still hadn’t let go of Harry._

            “That’s better,”� said James.

            _There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly._

_“’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ‘oo you are, eh, Neville?”� said Stan, beaming at Harry, while Ernie’s owlish face peered interestedly over Stan’s shoulder._

_“And a private parlor, please, Tom,”� said Fudge pointedly._

_“’Bye,”� Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar._

_“’Bye, Neville!”� called Stan._

            “Are they leaving now?”� asked Sirius.

            Remus glanced down the page. “Yep.”�

            “Good. Because that accent is horrible. I never, ever want to hear it again.”�

            _Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom’s lantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room._

_“Sit down, Harry,”� said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire._

_Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry._

            “I can’t look, I can’t look!”� said James, covering his eyes.

            “You can’t see it, anyway!”� Remus said. 

            “Whoops…yeah…”�

            _“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.”�_

_Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father’s Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn’t to know that._

            “Harry was wearing my cloak again?”� James said. “Wonder why…oh well, who cares?”�

            _Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlor, closing the door behind him._

_“Well, Harry,”� said Fudge, pouring out tea, “you’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think…but you’re safe, and that’s what matters.”�_

            “What?”� James asked. “What did you think, what?”�

            _Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry._

_“Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then…You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that’s that, and no harm done.”�_

            “Darn it. I mean,”� Sirius added as James looked at him, “Hooray.”�

            _Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying his favorite nephew._

            “As if I’d ever let you be his uncle!”� said James. “You’re going to arrest my son now, aren’t you?”�

            _Harry, who couldn’t believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t think of anything to say, and closed it again._

_“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?”� said Fudge. “Well, I won’t deny that they are extremely angry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays.”�_

_Harry unstuck his throat._

_“I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays,”� he said, “and I don’t ever want to go back to Privet Drive.”�_

_“Now, now, I’m sure you’ll feel differently once you’ve calmed down,”� said Fudge in a worried tone. “They are your family, after all, and I’m sure you are fond of each other- er- very deep down.”�_

            James started laughing. “Yeah, very deep down! So deep, that by the time you’ve finished digging to find it, Harry’s grandchildren will be dead!”�

            “By a great big murderer?”� Sirius said tonelessly.

            “Oh…Padfoot, I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I meant!”�

            _It didn’t occur to Harry to put Fudge right. He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now._

_“So all that remains,”� said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, “is to decide where you’re going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and-”�_

            “Hang on!”� said James. “What about his punishment?”�

            Remus glanced at the next line. “Whoa, Prongs, that’s quite freaky. Your son just said the exact same thing.”�

            “Really?”�

            “Yes, see here.”� Remus continued reading. 

_“Hang on,”� blurted Harry. “What about my punishment?”�_

_Fudge blinked._

_“Punishment?”�_

            “Yeah!”� James said. “He broke the law! That law they have about performing magic underage! The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!”�

            _“I broke the law!”� Harry said. “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!”�_

            “Wow,”� said Peter. “You really are scaring us! You and Harry really do have that father-son thing going on!”�

            _“Oh, my dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!”� cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. “It was an accident! We don’t send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!”�_

_But this didn’t tally at all with Harry’s past dealings with the Ministry of Magic._

_“Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle’s house!”� he told Fudge, frowning. “The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!”�_

            “What?”� said James. “What was a house-elf doing in the house?”�

            “Cleaning?”� Peter suggested.

            “Don’t be stupid, it’s not Harry’s house-elf!”� said James. “But if it was…ooh, just think how much fun we could have! I mean, how much fun _he_ could have!”�

            _Unless Harry’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward._

_“Circumstances change, Harry…We have to take into account…in the present climate…Surely you don’t want to be expelled?”�_

_“Of course I don’t,”� said Harry._

_“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?”� laughed Fudge. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you.”�_

            “What if Harry doesn’t want a crumpet, eh?”� said James. “What if he doesn’t like crumpets? You told him three times, and he doesn’t want one!”�

            _Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on._

            “Of course,”� said Peter.

            “There always is,”� said James.

            “That’s life,”� said Remus.

            Sirius didn’t say anything.

            _Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he’d done?_

            “Because he wanted to force him into eating crumpets, that’s why!”� James answered.

            _And now Harry came to think of it, surely it wasn’t usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic?_

_Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper._

_“Room eleven’s free, Harry,”� said Fudge. “I think you’ll be very comfortable. Just one thing, and I’m sure you’ll understand…I don’t want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you’re to be back here before dark each night. Sure you’ll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me.”�_

            “Ay, who are you to order my son?”� James said.

            _“Okay,”� said Harry slowly, “but why-?”�_

_“Don’t want to loose you again, do we?”� said Fudge with a hearty laugh. “No, no…best we know where you are…I mean…”�_

            “What are you talking about?”� James asked.

            _Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak._

_“Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know…”�_

_“Have you had any luck with Black yet?”� Harry asked._

            Sirius spoke for the first time in minutes, losing his bright, happy grin.

            “Had to bring it up again, didn’t he?”� he said. “Can’t your son leave me alone?”�

            _“What’s that? Oh, you’re heard- well, no, not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed…and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.”�_

            “NO!”� yelled Sirius. “NOT THE DEMENTORS!”�

            _Fudge shuddered slightly._

_“So, I’ll say good-bye.”�_

_He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea._

_“Er- Minister? Can I ask you something?”�_

_“Certainly,”� said Fudge with a smile._

_“Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn’t sign my permission form. D’you think you could-?”�_

_Fudge was looking uncomfortable._

_“Ah,”� he said. “No, no, I’m very sorry, Harry, but as I’m not your parent or guardian-”�_

_“But you’re the Minister of Magic,”� said Harry eagerly. “If you gave me permission-”�_

_“No, I’m sorry, Harry, but rules are rules,”� said Fudge flatly. “Perhaps you’ll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year.”�_

            “But- but-!”� James stuttered. “Harry has to go to Hogsmeade! How else will he follow in the footsteps of his father?”�

            “Erm, would that be a good thing?”� Remus asked.

            “Well of course it would be a good thing! I am James Potter, after all!”�

            _“In fact, I think it’s best if you don’t…yes…well, I’ll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry.”�_

_And with a last smile and shake of Harry’s hand, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry._

_“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Potter,”� he said, “I’ve already taken your things up…”�_

_Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him._

_Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe-_

_“Hedwig!”� Harry gasped._

_The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry’s arm._

            “Excellent owl, my son has!”� said James. “She’ll protect my son!”�

            Peter stifled his laughter.

            _“Very smart owl you’ve got there,”� chuckled Tom. “Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there’s anything you need, Mr. Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.”�_

_He gave another bow and left._

_Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry could hardly believe that he’d left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was now facing two completely Dursley-free weeks._

_“It’s been a very weird night, Hedwig,”� he yawned._

“That’s quite an understatement compared to our day,”� Remus added.

_And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep._

“Well…that was Chapter Three,”� said Remus. “Erm…nice, wasn’t it?”�

            “Oh yeah, real nice,”� said Sirius sarcastically. “It’s real nice finding out that you’re a murderer!”�

            “Well…try and look on the bright side!”� said James.

            “What’s that?”� Sirius asked.

            “Maybe you murdered people that we all hate, anyway! Like Snivellus, and Lucius Malfoy, and your relatives…it might not be that bad!”�

            “Yeah!”� said Peter.

            Remus thought that this possibility was very unlikely, and had a feeling James and Peter had the same feeling, but nevertheless, he went along with them, trying to cheer Sirius up. “Yes, come on, we’ll still be your friends in the future.”�

            “Except for me, who’s dead,”� James grumbled. “But I will still be your friend from the dead!”�

            “Hmm…maybe you’re right,”� said Sirius, starting to grin. “Maybe it isn’t as bad as the book is making it seem…”�

            And so, Sirius in a better mood, Remus got ready to read Chapter Four, and James, Sirius and Peter eagerly listened, thinking that maybe things would all get better in the next chapter.

            Were they ever wrong.


End file.
